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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25409965">Double Cherry Pie</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/elecktera/pseuds/elecktera'>elecktera</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Bisexual Arthur Morgan, Bisexual John Marston, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Karaoke, M/M, Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:48:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,531</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25409965</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/elecktera/pseuds/elecktera</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern Jarthur AU </p>
<p>Bartender Arthur, Biker John... What could go wrong?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Marston/Arthur Morgan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Double Cherry Pie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi!!! <br/>Okay, so this is my first ever fic I'm uploading to ao3!!<br/>This has been something I've been wanting to do for a while, just never got around to doing it.  <br/>What better way to start off my ao3 career than with my favorite cowboys&lt;33</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Arthur doesn’t know when exactly it happened, but it’s become a habit for a certain unkempt biker to meander his way into The Van Der Linde karaoke bar every Friday night, leap up onto the stage, and sing something sensual to the lingering crowd.</p>
<p>Arthur found it almost alluring - the man never brought any friends, never stayed for too long either. Only had a single drink, sang a few songs, and then slipped out of the door before midnight. He was methodical, always kept an eye on the rusted clock hanging above the stage.</p>
<p>Arthur couldn’t deny the man was attractive. He was lithe and slim, bathed in black clothes that clung to his body like they were a second skin. Sultry green eyes lined messily in dark charcoal with long black hair that hung over his face in a curtain, a stark contrast to his pale skin. He had a light dusting of stubble that contoured his face in all the right places. He was <em>pretty</em>, really, and since Arthur had never gotten the chance to learn anything other than the man’s initials, he’d opted to call him, “pretty boy.” It was stupid, maybe even juvenile, but no one but Arthur’s journal would ever know about it.</p>
<p>Just like last Friday and the Friday before, pretty boy would walk through the front doors and make a beeline for the karaoke queue. It was routine: He’d scrawl his initials out on the signup sheet, write Radiohead or Nirvana, something of the like, amble his way over towards the bar, order some sort of disgusting, fruity drink from Sadie, and make his way onto the stage.</p>
<p>And lord did he have a voice. It was deep and raspy, clung onto syllables with grace, before letting them go. When pretty boy sang, the crowd hushed, and all eyes pointed towards him. He grabbed attention with such naturality, willowy hips swinging with each beat, eyes closed in focus. His stage presence was heady, teetering on overwhelming.</p>
<p>This Friday, however, was different. Sadie had called in sick this morning and no one had been able to fill in for her. Typical. So when John walked into the bar and was met with Arthur, he only looked around in curiosity before smiling in his direction. It was only a quick quirk of his lips, but Arthur’s face flushed red all the same.</p>
<p>Arthur had his back turned to the steadily dwindling crowd, cleaning glasses with a towel when someone behind him cleared their voice. He whipped around, his eyes meeting pretty boy’s, who’s smile was apologetic, a hand scratching at the back of his neck, “I, uh- I didn’t mean to startle you. Just uh- Needed a drink, ‘fore I got on stage,” he said, standing up straighter.</p>
<p>And Arthur was <em>gone</em>. He was so much prettier up close, his voice still so unnaturally gruff even when he wasn’t singing Eddie Vedder. Arthur was lost in his eyes, and it sounded so cliché, but he was much too far to care.</p>
<p>“Uh… Mr?” Shit. How long had he been staring, “Sorry. ‘Course, what’s yer’ poison?”</p>
<p>Pretty boy bit at his thumb in consideration, scanning thoughtfully over the menu above Arthur’s head. And so what if a few debauched thoughts crossed his mind at the sight before him?</p>
<p>“Ol’ Glory should suit me just fine, I think,” and he smiled, this time with a dashed show of teeth. Arthur nodded setting down the glass he had been previously cleaning and getting to work.</p>
<p>John twiddled with his fingers, picking and prodding, obviously a nervous habit, “I’m John, dunno if you’ve seen me before. Usually, Sadie’s the one helpin’ me out,” But of course Arthur had seen. He’d seen and he’d stared. How could he have not?</p>
<p><em>John</em>, huh, he liked it, “Yeah, ‘course I’ve seen you, you sing real’ well,” and maybe he had said too much, but he couldn’t care less. He wanted John to know he’d noticed him, “Arthur,” he said, setting down the vodka he’d been pouring and sliding John’s drink over to him.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” taking a careful sip, “S’good! Real good, thank you.”</p>
<p>“It’s on the house,” Arthur had said before he could mull too much over it. He met eyes with John who had begun to stammer, “You sure? I can pay, don’t mind one bit, this is one damn good drink.”</p>
<p>Arthur shook his head, “Nah, you deserve it. Pretty sure you bring in more customers than my bartendin’ does with that voice of yers’,” and he had meant it. John’s voice was nothing short of entrancing. Honeyed and rich like a sirens song, it took and took, but Arthur didn’t care; he wanted to get utterly lost in it.</p>
<p>John blushed, and he was so <em>pretty</em>. Arthur wanted to make him do it again, and again, and again. “Thank you, Arthur,” and it had sounded so genuine, he’d nearly melted.</p>
<p>“Watchu’ singin’ tonight then?” John looked up from where his gaze had settled on the rim of his glass, his eyes, and the glass both coated in sugar.</p>
<p>He visibly perked up at the question, “Felt like switching it up a bit,” he simpered, his eyes trailing over Arthur’s face, “You’ll just have’ta wait ‘n see, I suppose,” John sat down his mostly empty glass, pushing himself off of the bar and heading towards the stage.</p>
<p>“Bold as brass sonofabitch,” Arthur muttered under his breath.</p>
<p>John slinked up the stairs, his air lurid and collected, long limbs extending to touch the microphone. As the music washed over the bar, he brought his lips nearly too close, his eyes looking fixedly at Arthur.</p>
<p>And at that moment, with John’s eyes eating him alive, he felt bare. Every thought, every dream, every desire, they belonged to John.</p>
<p>And then John began to sing, and the fire that had been pooling in his stomach roared violently.</p>
<p>“Hangin' round downtown by myself</p>
<p>And I had so much time</p>
<p>To sit and think about myself</p>
<p>And then there she was</p>
<p>Like double cherry pie</p>
<p>Yeah there she was</p>
<p>Like disco superfly”</p>
<p>And Arthur couldn’t look away even if he wanted to, John really was a siren as far as he was concerned. Pulling Arthur in and drowning him. He’d happily let him, in fact, he’d let John do anything he pleased.</p>
<p>“I smell sex and candy here</p>
<p>Who's that lounging in my chair</p>
<p>Who's that casting devious stares</p>
<p>In my direction”</p>
<p>John’s voice was- God, it was everything all at once. And yeah, he’d heard John sing before, but never like this. Never with John’s eyes locked onto his own as he ate up the stage with sweeping rocks and dips.</p>
<p>“Mama this surely is a dream</p>
<p>Yeah mama this surely is a dream</p>
<p>Yeah mama this surely is a dream”</p>
<p>And Arthur had never felt like this. When he was with Mary, he was always so reserved, but John- John was… It came easily; the tension, the push and pull. He wanted more, and he could only hope John felt the same.</p>
<p>“...In platform double suede</p>
<p>Yeah there she was Like disco lemonade”</p>
<p>And John smiled almost shyly at him as he sang; as if he wasn’t the most damned beautiful thing Arthur had ever seen. John’s eyes were what held all the flame, selling him to the crowd. And as he concluded his song with a quiet, “Thank you,” and a toothy smile, Arthur brought his thumb to his temple, dazed.</p>
<p>“That bad, huh?” John quirked from over the bar.</p>
<p>“No! No- You were- That was uh…” Incredible, you’re incredible John <em>Idon’tknowyourlastname</em>, but I’m sure it’s something just as incredible as the rest of you, “You’re good, real’ good.”</p>
<p>And John smiled, he shone so brightly he put the moon hung high to absolute shame.</p>
<p>“When does yer’ shift end, Arthur?” John leaned against the bar, much more confident than he had been before.</p>
<p>Arthur grumbled in his chest, “Don’t end till’ the bar closes I’m afraid,” he frowned, the lines in his face becoming much more prominent. John pulled out his phone, unlocking it and sliding it over the bar, “Put your number in my phone, wanna see more of you. If you’ll uh- If you’ll have me of course,” He added the latter much quieter, as if he’d be disappointed if Arthur said anything other than yes.</p>
<p>It spurred him on. Arthur looked at the phone and smiled up at John, “Yeah, yeah I’d like that, John,” and it rolled off his tongue so smoothly, nothing had ever sounded so right. He handed the phone back over after inputting his information, “Huh, Morgan,” John quipped, “Suits you... Arthur Morgan,” he said like he was testing it out, feeling the weight of it on his tongue. He could get used to hearing his name in John’s voice.</p>
<p>“I should get going, but I’ll see you ‘round Arthur Morgan,” he tipped his invisible hat, and off he went.</p>
<p>He heard a muffled “ding!” from his back pocket. He pulled out his phone, a text from an unidentified number, “Marston, John Marston.” And yeah, it was just as incredible as the rest of him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The song John sings is called Sex &amp; Candy it's by Marcy Playground, and I couldn't think of a more fitting song for Mr. Marston. <br/>I've also been considering writing a part II for this so... If anyone is interested...</p></blockquote></div></div>
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